Destined to Fall
by Disgruntled Peony
Summary: Prequel to 'Reversed Images'; how Darien and Bobby first met (in my AU, that is).
1. I

Title: Destined to Fall

Author: liz_Z

E-mail: liz_Z@secret-agent.com

Category: Action/Adventure/Alternate Universe

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Reference to 'Father Figure'.  Other than that, nothing- for the actual show, anyway. *evil grin*

Season/Sequel info: Prequel to my previous fic, 'Reversed Images'; takes place approximately six years before said fic.

Disclaimer: They're not mine and I'm not making any money off of 'em, so don't sue me.  I've barely got two pennies to rub together (although that's mainly due to the fact that I've been rubbing them together for so long that they're starting to get really worn down).

Author's notes: Okay, a couple of really close friends have been begging me for a sequel to 'Reversed Images' for months now (they know who they are).  But I figured that, before I explored Bobby's exploits over at the Agency that take place in my alternate universe, I should explore how he and Darien first met in my AU.  So, my friends (you know who you are), here's a prequel.  The sequels may be coming later.  And if they do, there'll be a bunch of 'em.  In for a penny, in for a pound, if you know what I mean...

To read 'Reversed Images', go here: http://www.geocities.com/the_padded_cell2001/reversedimages.html

Darien Fawkes was pleased with himself.  He'd just managed to worm his way into a very infamous thieving ring.  Not that it had been easy; on the contrary, it had been exceedingly difficult.  But Darien had managed to get in, and that was why he was so pleased with himself.  Having managed this, he was a little closer to his goal, to what would get him out of the lousy undercover job that had been assigned to him nearly a year ago by his boss over at the FBI.

Well, Darien admitted to himself, his assignment hadn't been completely crappy; at least he'd learned how to pick a lock, as well as how to crack just about any kind of security system ever made to date.  That was never a bad thing to have under your belt.

He walked toward the building he had been instructed to go to by his new 'boss' earlier over the phone; supposedly, the other members of the ring were going to be meeting there.  Darien took a deep breath as he walked up to the door, and then let it out.  The moment he walked through this door he could no longer afford to be Darien Fawkes, undercover fed.  Instead he would have to be the same person he had been for the past eleven months- Darien Fielding, jewelry thief extraordinaire.

Taking another deep breath in and out, Darien forced his federal agent self to the back of his mind.  Then he rang the doorbell and casually leaned against the wall beside it, running a hand haphazardly through his hair.  Unbidden, a thought flitted through his mind; one of the few bad things about returning to the FBI would be that he would once again have to assume a regulation haircut.  Over the past several months he had discovered that he enjoyed styling his hair so that it stuck straight up in the air.  He felt that it gave him a wild, untamed look.

The door to the house opened, bringing Darien's thoughts back to the present.  A burly, heavyset man with greasy black hair and sunken gray eyes looked out of the open door, seeming a little puzzled as to why no one was standing before him.  Darien pulled away from the wall, stepping up to the man and giving him a cheeky grin.  "Hey, I heard you guys were having a party so I figured I'd drop by.  Even brought my own party favor," he said, holding up his lock-pick.

The man glared distrustfully at Darien for a moment and then said in a gruff voice, "Come in."  He stepped out of the way and Darien walked in the door.  The first thing he noticed was that the décor in this house was sadly lacking.  It was obvious that this place was not normally lived in or, if it was, that it probably belonged to a very tasteless bachelor.

The man led Darien into a small- and extremely dirty- living room, where a group of three other men were gathered.  Darien immediately recognized one of the men as Fabio, the man who had hired him.  However, he didn't recognize any of the other people in the room, including the man who had let him into the house.

As Darien entered the room, Fabio stood to his feet.  "Ah, our newest member of the team has arrived." He turned to the rest of the men in the room.  "Gentlemen, this is Darien Fielding.  He's our new resident expert on lock-picking and disabling security systems."

A short balding man who was sitting in a corner of the room cleared his throat and said in a loud tone, "So Fielding, what've you got?  How am I supposed to know you're any good?"

Darien's lips curled upward in a grin similar to the one he had given the man who had met him at the door.  "You know that job that got pulled over at the Delaney place last month?  That was me."

The man who had let Darien into the house earlier snorted derisively.  "C'mon man, you've gotta do better than that.  I've heard at least three guys claim to be the ones who pulled off that job in the last week alone."

Darien's grin widened.  "Yeah, but none of them had the goods to prove it." With that he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large diamond necklace that had belonged to Mrs. Delaney.  He really had stolen the necklace, as well as several other expensive items in the Delaney household; after all, the job had to be as authentic as possible.  However, he had later returned everything but the necklace that was currently in his hands, and after tonight that too would be finding its way back to its rightful owner.

The man who had first asked for proof of Darien's skills raised an eyebrow as he surveyed what Darien held in his hands.  "Nice."  A skinny little man, whose hands twitched nervously as he looked at the necklace, nodded in silent agreement.

Darien placed the necklace back in his pocket.  Then he walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, placing his legs on a trash-littered coffee table.  "So, now you all know I'm good.  But to tell you the truth, I'm not too sure about you.  What can you guys do?"

The man who had met Darien at the door spoke first.  "I'm Jonathan Becker.  You need a safe cracked, that's my specialty."

The balding man leaned forward in his chair, looking over at Darien.  "Bobby Hobbes.  I scale high-rises, sneak through air-ducts, that sort of thing.  I'm also not too bad at picking locks or cracking safes," he said, a wry grin appearing on his face, "but that's not why I was hired."

The final man, whose fingers were still twitching a little every now and then, said, "I'm Neville Crawford.  I supply the tools we need for the jobs beforehand, and I help with the actual break-ins."

"He'll also rob you blind if you don't keep an eye on him," Bobby added, giving Darien a pointed look.  "He'll pick your pocket fast as lightning."

"Faster," Neville said, giving Bobby a look that seemed to Darien to be a cross between pride at Bobby's compliment and annoyance that his secret had been revealed before he had had a chance to steal the diamond necklace that Darien had tucked away in his pocket.

"What about you?" Darien asked, looking over at Fabio.  "What do you do?"

Fabio smiled.  "I make sure you all do your jobs correctly, and I arrange the jobs we're going to pull beforehand.  And of course I, like most of the others here, have a decent amount of skill at breaking and entering."

"Guess you could say you're the brains of the operation," Darien said, leaning back even farther in his chair.

"I guess you could," Fabio said, giving Darien a slightly pleased look.  Then he turned his attention on the whole group.  "Now then, the reason I've called you all here is to-" Before he finished his sentence the distinctive sound of a ringing cell phone filled the room.  Fabio reached into his pocket and pulled out the object responsible for his interruption and then looked back at the group of men gathered in the living room.  "I need to take this call, please excuse me."  And, without any other type of explanation, he walked out of the room.

As soon as Fabio walked out of the room Jonathan walked over to Darien, looming over him threateningly.  "Look Fielding, the boss may think you're trustworthy, but that doesn't mean I do.  I warn you, safes aren't the only thing I've been known to crack," he said in a tone that led Darien to believe that the item he was threatening to crack was Darien's skull.

"Is that a threat?" Darien asked calmly, standing to his feet in what seemed to be a casual manner.  However, inwardly he was tensing, ready to defend himself against a possible attack.

"So what if it is?" Becker replied in a dangerous tone.

Bobby stood to his feet, giving Jonathan a pointed look.  "Back off, Becker.  You don't have any reason to mess with Fielding, he hasn't caused any trouble."

"No, but he looks like it," Jonathan growled.

"So do you," Bobby said pointedly.  "Leave the kid alone, he hasn't done anything."

Neville stood up and muttered a quick "Yeah," albeit in a slightly nervous tone.  After all, he wasn't a very large man, and Jonathan was obviously someone it would be a good idea to avoid contending with.

Jonathan looked as though he was tempted to try pummeling the lot of them, but before he had the chance to do anything Fabio walked back into the room, pocketing his cell phone as he did so.  "Is there a problem?" he asked, looking around the room with what Darien was sure was anything but ignorance.  The man probably knew exactly what had been going on here.

Still, Jonathan seemed willing to pretend that nothing had happened.  "Just showin' the new guy the ropes," he said, turning around and walking nonchalantly back to his seat.

"Well then," Fabio said, as if nothing had happened, "let's continue, shall we?  As I was saying, the reason I have called you all here is not just to introduce everyone.  I've called you all here to plan our next job."  He turned and walked over to a small backpack that was lying in a corner of the room.  Reaching into it, he pulled out a slightly worn-looking set of blueprints.  "Now," he said with a smile, "let's get to work."

**********

Several hours later, after the four men had gone over the plan for breaking into the building in question over and over until they had it memorized, Fabio stood to his feet. "Gentlemen, I believe we have our plan.  We'll meet tomorrow, at the same time we did today, at Roberto's place.  Bring your standard equipment, lock-picks and such; Neville will supply anything extra we might need." Darien was about to ask where 'Roberto's place' was, but before he had the chance Fabio said, "Don't worry Mr. Fielding, you'll be instructed on how to get there tomorrow.  Everyone else knows where to meet, I trust?" The others nodded.  "Good.  Tomorrow it is, then."  As if Fabio had given some unspoken signal of dismissal, everyone began to head toward the door.

Darien started to walk toward the door with the others, but as soon as possible he snagged Bobby's arm and pulled him away from the others. "We need to talk," he said quietly.

"Outside," Bobby replied, in a tone that said he'd been expecting this.  The two of them walked outside.  Once there, Bobby motioned for Darien to follow him over to an old Honda Civic.  As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Hobbes began to speak.  "Don't worry about Becker, that's how he treats any new guy.  He thinks with his fists, not with his head."

  "Actually, that's not what I was going to ask you about," Darien said, although he was grateful for the information.  "Fabio said I was your new expert at lock-picking and security systems.  What happened to your old one?"

"Well," Bobby said, looking a little uncomfortable, "Becker wasn't joking when he said safes aren't the only thing he cracks.  Spencer- that was the old guy's name, Ed Spencer- he tried to rat on us not too long ago.  Becker caught him in the act and busted the back of his skull in with a flashlight.  Spencer's in a coma, and I hope for his sake he never comes out of it," he finished grimly.

"So I shouldn't worry about this Becker guy, even after he smashed some guy's skull in?  Yeah, that makes a lot of sense," Darien said sarcastically.

"As long as you don't give Becker any reason to suspect you, you'll be fine.  He'll ease off in about a week," Bobby replied.  "Unless you do something that might cause him to get arrested, you should be fine." He leaned closer to Darien.  "Trust me when I say, don't do anything that might cause him to get arrested."

Darien smiled.  "Hey, I'm in it with you guys, right?"  Of course, he wasn't, but he wasn't about to say that.  Inwardly he was groaning.  When he was finally able to break his cover, which probably wouldn't be for another month or so, he would probably make another enemy in Becker.  Of course, he'd probably make enemies of everyone present when the arrest took place, but from what he was hearing Becker would be a definite.  He would have to be very sure not to do anything that would break his cover prematurely.

Bobby nodded.  "Right."  Then he opened his car door and stepped inside.  Darien took this to mean that the conversation was over, so he walked over to his own car and got in.  He and Bobby drove off in different directions, each to their respective homes and lives, each to relax in their own ways and to prepare for tomorrow.


	2. II

Darien lay on the couch that was located in the main room of his small apartment, sipping a beer and thinking.  He really didn't like this undercover job; it reminded him too much of his father.  His father.  Mason Fawkes, petty thief.  Darien had never been sure whether, if he ever saw his father again, he would give the man a hug or spit in the man's face.  He'd often opted for the latter.  He didn't hate his father exactly, but he couldn't understand why the man had left the way he had.

There had been a brief stint in Darien's teens where he had almost gone down the same path as his father.  He had started to steal things at the time; just minor things like packs of gum and watches, but his mini-heists had been getting more and more ambitious by the day.  He had no clue where he would have been today if he had gone on with his amateur thievery, although prison was a definite possibility.

But, something had stopped him- or, to be more precise, someone.  It hadn't been Kevin, or Uncle Peter, or anyone else he knew, that was for sure.  Oh no, the person who had had the most influence in showing Darien the error of his ways was someone completely different, a young woman by the name of Cheryl Mackenzie.

Cheryl had been Darien's best friend through most of grade school, as well as junior high.  She had caught Darien trying to break into a kid's locker one day about two weeks after high school started, and she said that she couldn't believe how much Darien had changed over the summer.  She didn't care that Darien's mother had died just a couple of months before, or that Darien was now living with an aunt and an uncle that paid Kevin a good deal more attention than they did him.   In her opinion, that still didn't justify petty thievery.  So, she had reported his actions to the teachers.

Darien had gotten in a world of trouble, of course; not only had he been severely punished by the school, but Kevin had given him a severe lecture and Uncle Peter had pretty much grounded him until the turn of the century.  Still, none of these things really made much of an impact with him.  What really hit home was Cheryl.  The way she had reacted to what he had done, and the look in her eyes when she had caught him doing it.  It was the same look Darien's mother had always had in her eyes when she talked about Darien's father.  And Darien had immediately realized that he didn't want to be anything like his father.

Darien pulled himself back to reality and looked down at the beer in his hands.  He really didn't need to be doing this much introspection right now; after all, he had a job in the morning.  He needed his rest, and he didn't need a hangover.  So he walked into his kitchen, dumped the rest of the contents of his beer bottle into the sink, and then headed toward his bedroom to get some much-needed sleep.

**********

Bobby woke up slowly, relishing the feel of the warm body beside him.  He rolled over and opened his eyes, looking at the sleeping face of his girlfriend.  Just then she stirred, opening her eyes sleepily and asking in a bleary tone, "Bobby?"

Bobby smiled.  "Yeah, Viv?"

Vivian smiled back.  "You're staring again."

Bobby shrugged and wrapped an arm around Vivian's shoulders, drawing her closer to him.  "How could I not stare at the most beautiful woman I've ever met?"

Vivian gave Bobby a flirtatious look and gave him an affectionate slap on the rear.  "I'll bet you say that to all the girls," she said, pulling out of Bobby's arms, standing to her feet, and starting to dress herself.

"What girls?" Bobby asked in an innocent tone, his eyes sparkling with merriment.  He watched her in silence for a minute, then stood up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.  He placed his lips against the bare skin of her neck and kissed it softly.  Then he said in a husky voice that was somewhat muffled by the proximity of his lips to her skin, "Come back to bed."

Vivian paused in the middle of buttoning her blouse.  "Bobby, I can't..."

"Oh, yes you can," Bobby said seductively, in between the kisses he was continuing to rain on Vivian's neck.

Vivian groaned in pleasure, but then reached down and unclasped Bobby's arms from around her waist.  She pulled away, saying in a serious tone, "Bobby, I really can't.  I have to be at the hospital for work in..." she paused to glance at a clock hanging from the wall opposite the bed, "...half an hour.  And you know how long it takes to get there in the morning traffic."

Bobby's face took on a pleading look, not unlike that of a lost puppy begging for someone to take him home.  "Aww, Viv, come on..."

Vivian just shook her head.  "No."

Bobby sighed and sat down on the bed.  "Yeah, I know.  But hey, a guy can dream, can't he?"

"He could do a lot more than that if he came home before midnight," Vivian said, her voice taking on a slightly bitter tone.

Bobby frowned.  "Come on Viv, we've been over all this before."  They had indeed; one of Vivian's ongoing complaints was that Bobby almost never came home at a decent time.  Bobby had claimed to have a night job when Vivian had first asked him where he lived, since it explained the frequent late-night absences when he was planning or pulling off a robbery.  But Vivian didn't like it, not one bit.

"Can't you take some time off for a while?" Vivian asked, her tone turning harsh.  "You're hardly ever around anymore, and even when you are you're always thinking about something that probably has to do with your job."  Her face took on a pained expression.  "Take a few days off.  Please."

Bobby turned away.  "I can't," he said quietly.  "Not right now.  Maybe later, but right now there's some important stuff going on at work and..." He turned around, only to discover that Vivian was no longer in the room and he was talking to nothing but the walls.  "Viv, wait!" he yelped, running out of the bedroom and looking around desperately for her.  She was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a car starting up in the driveway.  He ran out the front door, only to see Vivian's car pulling out of the driveway.  He ran after it, yelling and waving his hands, but Vivian paid him no mind.  By the time he had reached the end of the driveway her car was careening away down the street.

Bobby swore loudly and punched the nearest thing available- his mailbox.  He swore even louder at the hurt that had been caused by his action, holding his fist and gritting his teeth from the pain.

Once the pain in his hand had lessened to a dull throbbing, he looked around.  The mailbox had sagged to the right from the force of his blow, a fresh dent visible where his fist had connected with it.  And apparently all the noise he had made had peaked his neighbors' curiosity, because they were all looking out through open doors and windows, staring bewilderedly at the sight of the man standing beside his now very crooked mailbox in nothing but his boxers.

Bobby could feel himself beginning to blush at the intense scrutiny of his neighbors.  He turned around and walked inside, absently rubbing his sore hand.  He would have to do something to win Vivian back.  But in the meantime, he needed to get ready for work.

**********

Darien woke up to the raucous sound of his doorbell ringing.  He groaned and rolled over in his bed, hoping that whoever was at the door would just give up and go away, but it was not to be.  Finally, after the ringing had gone on almost non-stop for about two minutes, Darien stood reluctantly to his feet, yelling, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"  The ringing immediately stopped.

Darien leaned over and grabbed his shirt from the night before, slipping it over his bare torso.  He fully intended to trade it in for a clean shirt later, preferably after a long shower, but at the moment he was going more for modesty than cleanliness; he didn't feel it appropriate to answer the door in nothing but his boxers.

He walked over to the door of his apartment, swung it open, and let out a sleepy, "Yeah?" However, he found himself speaking only to empty air.  He frowned and leaned out into the hallway, but he didn't see anyone in either direction.  However, his left foot impacted with something just before he turned around and walked back into his apartment.  He looked down and saw a large manila envelope lying on the floor next to the foot in question.  He groaned; this sort of thing was way too cliché for his tastes.

He bent down and picked the envelope up, grumbling in an irritated manner as he did so, and then turned and walked back inside.  He sat down on his couch and opened the envelope, turning it upside down and shaking it in an attempt to relieve it of its contents.  A large piece of folded paper and a small piece of unfolded paper promptly fell out of the envelope and landed in Darien's lap.

Darien unfolded the large piece of paper, which turned out to be a map of the San Diego area.  Near the outskirts of the city, a specific area had been circled with a red marker.  Scrawled above it in large letters were the words 'Roberto's Place'.  The smaller piece of paper contained more detailed directions on how to get there, as well as instructions to memorize the location and then burn the map and piece of paper.  Darien had to laugh at that.  Whoever made these instructions obviously had a flair for the melodramatic.  That meant that, while Fabio had probably delivered the instructions, he had almost certainly not made them himself.  Darien was currently betting that Neville was the person responsible for their creation.

Darien began to study the location on the map and the directions on how to get there, although he had no intention of burning either of them.  After he had them decently committed to memory, he put them in his magazine rack and began to undress, with the intention of getting a shower.  He had a job to prepare for.

**********

That evening, Darien drove up to Roberto's Place, which seemed to be a seedy bar.  He was a bit late, but that was only because he'd misjudged the distance a bit and had started out later than he would have if he'd known just how far out it was.  He only hoped the others wouldn't mind his tardiness; he suspected that Jonathan Becker, at least, wouldn't be happy about it.

Darien stepped out of his car and pulled a small duffle bag full of equipment out of the back seat.  Then he closed the car door, locked it, and headed off toward the dingy building that he assumed belonged to Roberto.  He wasn't looking forward to the job ahead; in fact, he loathed the mere thought of it.  He didn't like playing the thief.  It brought back memories of his father almost constantly, and the memories were extremely painful and bitter.  But if he played his cards right no one would even suspect that he felt the way he did about the job at hand.

Darien slipped through the door to the building in question and was promptly blinded and deafened at the same time.  Apparently the owner of this place had several painfully bright strobe lights, one of which had been placed at such an angle that it would blind anyone who came through the door.  The owner also appeared to enjoy having heavy metal rock and roll music playing at full blast from speakers situated at inconvenient places all through the building.  It was quite a transition for Darien, but none of the other patrons seemed to mind.

After Darien had recovered from the initial shock he started to make his way further into the room, looking around for any familiar faces.  He didn't see any at first, but he did see several people with unusual tattoos, as well as several that had pierced ears, noses, lips, and bellybuttons, not to mention various other parts of their anatomy.

Finally he spotted Bobby Hobbes standing over in a corner of the room.  He began to walk toward Bobby, but when he was about halfway across the room Bobby noticed him.  "Hey Fielding!" Bobby yelled over the considerable blare of the speakers, "Get over here!"

Darien walked over to Bobby.  "Where are the others?" he yelled, hoping his voice could be heard over the music.

"They're in the back," Bobby yelled, pointing toward a small door in a corner of the room.  "Come on, I'll show you!"  He started walking toward the door.  Darien followed, unsure of what to expect.  Bobby walked through the door, and Darien walked in immediately afterwards.  He was immensely relieved to find that this room was lit normally and that, while the music from the other room could still be clearly heard in the background, it was no longer ear-splittingly loud.

Fabio, Neville, and Jonathan were all gathered around a small table.  They looked up as Bobby and Darien walked through the door.  "It's about time," Jonathan said in a slightly dangerous tone.  However, a stern look from Fabio convinced him that now was not the time for thinly veiled threats.

"All right, we're all here.  Let's get this show on the road," Bobby said, grabbing a black backpack from its place on the floor and slinging one of the straps over his shoulder.

"Does everyone know the plan?" Fabio asked, obviously expecting confirmation.  Everyone nodded.  "Very well then.  Gentlemen, we're off."  Jonathan immediately let out a whoop of excitement, as did Neville.  Bobby seemed excited too, but Darien noticed his enthusiasm seemed a little more dampened than the others had been, as if something else was weighing on his mind.

Now that Darien thought about it, he too was excited in a way.  The yell of excitement and the broad grin spreading across his face weren't completely forced.  In fact, he was surprised at just how excited he really was to go on this job.  Part of this was due to the fact that it was an initiation of sorts; after all, the thing that would earn his acceptance the fastest would be to show them that he really was as good as he said he was.  Part of this was because he was getting closer by the day to when he would be able to blow his cover.  But part of it was actual enthusiasm for the challenge ahead of him, and the fact that he would be returning his share of the plunder after the robbery took place didn't dampen his excitement a bit.


	3. III

Still whooping and hollering, Darien, Bobby, and the others began to head toward the back exit.  Darien opened the door and stepped out into the night.  The first thing to greet his vision was an old, rusty-looking black van.  "Aw man, we're taking that?" he asked in a disgusted tone, looking at the van with something akin to pity.  It looked like it should have been put out of its misery quite some time ago.

"Hey, don't go badmouthing my baby," Bobby said, patting the van's hood in what could almost be considered a consoling manner.  "She may look like a rust-bucket, but she still runs well.  She's got character, too."  Darien couldn't help thinking that if the van Bobby was looking at so fondly had much more 'character' it would probably collapse from its own weight.

Bobby walked around to the back of the van, fumbled in his pocket for a moment, pulled out a key-ring, and unlocked the back doors to the van.  "Hey everyone, pile in!" he yelled, walking over to the driver's side of the van and climbing in.

The others walked over, placed their respective bags of equipment in the back of the van, and then started to take what seemed to be their assigned places.  Fabio sat in the front passenger's side, Neville sat in the seat behind them, and Jonathan sat in the very back.  Darien walked around back and placed his duffle bag of equipment in the back along with the others, closed the doors, and then walked around to the side.  He stuck his head inside the van somewhat nervously, in an attempt to discern whether or not the van would be able to support his weight.

Finally, when Bobby started giving Darien irritated glances via the rear-view mirror, he climbed in.  He sat next to Neville, mainly because he had no desire to sit next to Jonathan.  Bobby jammed the keys into the ignition, started up the engine, and sent the van careening out of the alley.  Darien could tell one thing right off; he wasn't the least bit impressed with Bobby's driving skills.

**********

About twenty minutes later, Bobby pulled his van to a stop outside an old, decrepit diner that didn't look to be good for much besides a cup or two of tepid coffee or maybe a quick stop by the restrooms.  Of course, this was not the place Fabio had ordered them to break into.  Only three buildings away stood some sort of high-tech government facility.  This, not the diner, was the target.

Silently, everyone except Darien began to make their way out of the van and head around to the back doors.  Bobby unlocked them and stepped out of the way while everyone began to unload their backpacks and duffle bags of equipment.  Bobby grabbed his backpack last of all, trying to keep the feelings of guilt and remorse that kept trying to worm their way into his head at bay.

He couldn't get Vivian out of his mind; that was the main problem.  He really did love her.  And, even though he knew she loved him too, he also knew she wasn't the kind of person who would be happy playing second fiddle to his work.  She had made it quite clear that morning that she wasn't going to stand for it much longer; for all Bobby knew, she might even be considering leaving him.

Bobby knew he was getting too absorbed in his job, knew that Vivian had every reason to act the way she had acted, but he also knew that there was no way he could ease off on his work now.  Fabio had recently received a commission from one of their employers that would most likely keep the entire thieving ring busy for the next month, and Bobby felt obligated to help with those jobs.  Still, he also longed to please Vivian, and that would mean easing off on his work, if not quitting completely...

Bobby's train of thought was interrupted by the sudden, mildly alarming sensation of someone tapping on his shoulder.  Bobby jumped nervously and looked up, and up, and up, and finally made eye contact with Darien Fielding, who was leaning over the back seat of the van and giving him a curious look.  "You okay, man?" Darien asked, minute traces of concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," Bobby replied hurriedly, pulling one of his backpack straps up over his right shoulder.  Darien had a less than convinced look on his face, so Bobby said in a reassuring tone, "Really, I'm fine."  Of course, that was a lie, but Bobby hoped it wouldn't be by the time he started the job at hand.

Darien still looked doubtful, but he only said, "Okay, if you say so.  Could you hand me my duffle?"  Bobby nodded and passed it up to Darien, who pulled it over the back of the seat.  Then he gave Bobby a pointed look.  "A little privacy might be nice..."  Bobby rolled his eyes and closed the back doors.  A resounding slam told him that Darien had closed the side door as well.  In order for the plan to work Darien had to pose as a janitor, and it had been decided that the best place for him to change into the appropriate attire was in the van.

About five minutes later Darien opened the side door of the van and stepped out, dressed in a plain blue uniform.  His duffle bag was slung over one shoulder.  Bobby cocked an eyebrow.  "That's it?"

 Darien shrugged.  "Yeah, this is it."

Bobby shook his head.  "I just hope you have a back-up plan, 'cause there's no way you're gonna make it in and out of that building without getting caught."

"You'd be surprised," Darien said, a smirk crossing his face.

"Whatever man, it's your funeral." Bobby turned and began heading towards the place where Fabio, Neville, and Jonathan were standing.  Darien followed, duffle in hand.

Fabio and Neville turned to face Bobby as he walked up to them, but Jonathan didn't move an inch, just continued to look over at the building.  Bobby had the feeling Jonathan was upset at him for standing up for Darien yesterday.  But hey, someone had to stand up for the new kid on the block, and Neville certainly wouldn't have managed it.  He meant well, but he was a bit of a wuss.

"Is everyone ready?"  Fabio asked, using his most professional tone.  Bobby nodded, as did everyone else.  "All right then."  And with that, Fabio pulled out a black ski mask and pulled it over his face.  Neville and Jonathan followed suit, and Bobby dug through his backpack until he found his own ski mask.  He pulled it over his face, wincing just the tiniest bit as he did so.  He had never liked wearing ski masks; they always felt uncomfortable to him.  But it was better than having people be able to identify him on sight.

Darien walked by, that irritating smirk still on his face.  "See you guys later."  He started to head for the target building's main entrance.  Meanwhile, Hobbes began walking toward the building next to it.  As he walked, his mind began to turn more toward the job at hand, much to his relief.  He could always worry about Vivian later.  Right now he needed to keep focused, or he'd quite likely end up in jail.

**********

Darien walked through the front door of the building, trying to ignore the fact that the harness around his chest was very uncomfortable.  Absently whistling the tune to an old Christmas carol, he started to walk past the security guard.  He didn't get very far before he felt someone place a hand on his shoulder.  He turned around and found himself face to face with the security guard.

"Hey man," Darien said, giving the guard a smile, "what's up?"

"I don't remember ever seeing you before," the guard said, giving Darien a suspicious look.

"Oh," Darien said in as nonchalant a tone as he could manage.  "That's 'cause I don't usually work night-shift.  But Bill's sick, so I'm filling in for him."  Darien hoped the security guard would be stupid or inexperienced enough to fall for that.

And, fortunately for Darien, he was.  "Okay then, go on through."  The guard paused for a moment and then said in a curious tone, "I gotta ask- what's with the hair?"

Darien shrugged.  "I just don't like it hanging in my eyes."  He turned around and walked away, hardly able to believe the gullibility of that guard.  He made a mental note to inform his boss that this building needed better training for its security staff.

It didn't take him long to set the cameras up so that they displayed nothing but a repeated loop of empty hallways.  As soon as he'd done that, he pulled a small handheld radio out of his duffle and set it to the preordained frequency.  "Okay guys, everything's ready for you to come down," he said casually, reclining comfortably in a chair.

"Roger that," Fabio said, his voice slightly distorted by the radio's speaker.

Satisfied that no more communication was necessary at this time, Darien stuffed the radio in his pants pocket.  He glanced at his watch and then walked over to a nearby janitor's closet, pulling out a mop and bucket.  No use in hanging around unless he looked like he was actually supposed to be here, after all.  And he needed to stick around to make sure the others were able to get in and out without any trouble.  If all went according to plan, he should only have to stay in the building for ten minutes.  

**********

Bobby looked over the edge of the roof he was standing on and felt a gentle breeze tugging at his clothes.  He wanted to get this job over with; even though he was in the right mindset now, the thought of Vivian still lurked in the back of his mind, refusing to let him be.  He had to do something to make it up to her.  He resolved to take her out to dinner tomorrow night.  Somewhere nice, expensive even.  He was willing to do anything to make her happy again.  Well, almost anything...

He pulled himself back to the moment as he heard Darien's voice crackling through over Fabio's radio, letting everyone know that the building's security had been compromised.  Fabio acknowledged Darien's comment and Bobby felt the beginnings of a smile crossing his face, although it was hidden by the mask he wore.  Now the fun would begin.

On Fabio's signal, everyone began gathering their equipment.  Neville unzipped his duffle, holding up a large contraption designed to shoot a grappling hook into the wall of the target building.  He pulled out a harness as well, and Bobby strapped that on himself; he was the one who was going to break into the building first, so that he could unlock the roof.  Then the others, who didn't have his skill for scaling buildings, would have an easier time getting in.

Neville might be a coward and a sticky-fingered pickpocket, but he was a pretty good shot with that weird contraption of his.  He hit the intended area of brick the first shot.  He and Bobby secured the other end of the line around a sturdy pole, and then Bobby began to hook up his harness.  He could have already had it hooked up by now if he'd let Jonathan assist Neville, but he quite frankly didn't trust Jonathan to tie the rope properly, especially if he was out for blood.  And from the way he'd been acting lately, if he wasn't already, he would be soon.

It didn't take long before Bobby was hooked up to the rope and flying- no, not flying, but close to it- toward the imposing brick wall of the building next door.  He hit hard, but no harder than expected; he'd already steeled himself for the blow.  Then he detached himself from the cable that had allowed him to come thus far and began carefully, ever so carefully, climbing toward the nearest window.

Before long he had arrived, and he pulled his glasscutter out of his pocket and, after placing a suction-powered clamp on the window so that he could keep hold of it with one hand and making sure that his footing on the window ledge was secure, he used his other hand to cut the glass around the clamp in a wide circle, wide enough for him to step through.

Slow and steady now, he thought to himself, just take your time.  Slow and easy now, slow and quiet.  So, slowly and quietly, he pushed the circle of glass inward with one hand, keeping a firm hold on that clamp with his other.  Then, once the circle of glass was inside the building, he very carefully lowered it to the floor.  No good letting the guards hear a mysterious crash that would make them curious as to what was going on in here, after all.

After the piece of glass had been lowered to the floor, Bobby placed a hand on the top of the window frame and cautiously placed his right leg through the hole in the glass.  Once he'd lowered it to the floor, he brought his other leg through the hole.  He was inside the building now; he had just completed his favorite part of these thieving jobs.  He loved the thrill of climbing the walls, nothing below him but air and, very far away, the ground.  Some people were afraid of heights, but not Bobby Hobbes.

He jogged out of the room and down the hall in an almost carefree manner, and then climbed the stairs to the roof.  He swung the door open and took off one of his shoes, placing it in the doorway.  Then he let out a short, piercing whistle.  Immediately Fabio, Neville, and Jonathan appeared out of the shadows, walking toward the open door.  Bobby didn't know exactly how they'd made it across the gap between buildings, and quite frankly he didn't care.  He did his job, they did theirs, and they never questioned each other.  Unless a mistake was made, that is.  Then the questions rose thick as smoke.

Fabio walked through the door first, just like always.  Then Neville followed, and then Jonathan.  He didn't go in right away, though.  He stopped for a moment, giving Bobby a nasty look.  Bobby knew that look all too well, and he returned it with pleasure.  As long as things didn't actually come to blows, he didn't mind a little mutual animosity.

Finally Jonathan turned and walked into the building.  Bobby walked in after him, pausing just long enough to pull his shoe out of the doorway and put it back on his foot.  Then he followed the others down the stairwell.  

The next few minutes were simply a matter of scurrying down hallways and making sure security guards weren't lurking around the next corner.  Within three minutes, the four thieves had reached their destination.  Bobby was surprised to see that it was a lab of some kind.  He had expected something more along the lines of a... well, he wasn't really sure what he had been expecting, but it sure hadn't been this.

"You sure we're in the right building?" he asked jokingly, glancing over at Fabio.

Fabio glared back.  "Of course I'm sure.  Do you think we'd be here if I wasn't?"  Bobby shook his head, mentally rolling his eyes.  Sometimes Fabio took everything way too seriously.

There was a large safe sitting in one corner of the room; that at least seemed to support the fact that this was the building they were meant to be robbing.  Jonathan got right to work on it, and had it cracked within two minutes, by hand no less.  It had been agreed that an explosion would be much too loud for this particular job.

Fabio wasted no time, walking right into the safe, which was more than large enough for a man to walk inside.  He rummaged around in it for a few seconds and then stopped, a wide grin spreading across his face that Bobby knew meant he'd found what he was looking for.  He held up a small metal container, which had a biohazard logo on it.  "That's it?" Bobby said, a cold feeling beginning to appear in the pit of his stomach.  "That's what we're stealing?"  He frowned.  The thing didn't look very valuable in and of itself.

Fabio gave Bobby a pointed look.  "This is it, and we're being paid a lot of money for it."  The tone of his voice indicated that the subject was not to be brought up again.  This was not a prospect that was particularly pleasing to Bobby, but he decided to go along with it.  The less he knew about what was done with the stuff he stole, the better.  If he found out, his conscience would probably start gnawing at him.  It had done that quite often in the past, and it had always been at the most inopportune times.

Fabio placed the container in his backpack and the group of thieves started to head out of the room.  But, just before they walked out, Neville kicked the safe closed.

He obviously hadn't expected it to close so loudly.  It slammed shut with a resounding bang, and he cringed visibly, knowing he had just made a monumental mistake.  "What did you do that for?" Jonathan hissed, looking angrily down at the smaller man.

"Well... I thought..."

"You didn't think!" Fabio exclaimed, his eyes blazing with anger.  Bobby stepped back to a corner of the room.  This was one conversation he didn't want to get in the middle of.

"Well, I figured the guards, you know, might be suspicious if the safe was open..." Neville stammered, glancing nervously at Jonathan, then at Fabio, then at the door.  It was obvious he wanted to make a run for it, and he might have done it too, except at that moment a security guard walked into the room, flashlight raised and gun drawn.

TBC... I know, I'm evil...  But I hope to have part 4 out by this time next week.


	4. IV

 "Hold it right there!" the guard exclaimed, training his gun on Jonathan, who was easily the biggest target in the room.  He didn't seem to be paying any attention to Bobby, who was on the opposite end of the room; it was entirely possible he hadn't notice him yet.  Bobby decided to take full advantage of this distraction.  He reached over to one of the lab tables, picking up an empty test-tube, and quietly snuck up behind the guard.

"Hello there," he said in an intimidating tone of voice, sticking the open end of the test-tube in the small of the guard's back and placing a hand firmly on the guard's shoulder.  The guard tensed and slowly raised his hands.  "Give me the gun," Bobby said, jamming the test tube as hard as he could against the guard's back without risking breaking it.  The guard did as he was told, handing the gun backwards to Bobby.  Bobby took his hand off the guard's shoulder and grabbed hold of the gun, promptly smashing the test tube to the floor as soon as he had a good grip on the gun.

The guard's eyes widened as he realized that he had been held hostage by a test-tube.  "That's all you had?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Hey, it's not my fault you were stupid enough to fall for that trick," Bobby said dryly, placing the real gun against the guard's back.  "Guess what, buddy?  You're gonna get us out of here."  He looked over at Fabio.  "Which route?"  The group had made very sure that there was more than one good way for them to get out of this building, and at this point it wouldn't be a very good idea for them to go out the way they had come in.

Fabio thought for a moment and then said in a casual tone, "Fire escape."

Bobby nodded, and then nudged the guard with both the barrel of the gun and his free hand.  "Move."  The guard's face took on a sullen expression, but he did as Bobby told him, and the group moved quietly out of the room.

They made it about halfway down the hall with no problems.  But then another security guard stepped out of a nearby room, saying in a bored tone, "Smith, what's taking you so long?"  His eyes widened at the sight before him, and before anyone could do anything to stop him he lunged at a nearby fire alarm, yanking the lever down.  Instantly the entire building was full of a cacophony of sound as the alarm started blaring out almost excessively loud warning tones.

**********

Darien had just put away the mop and bucket and was reaching for his duffle when a fire alarm started blaring through the halls.  He frowned and slung his duffle bag over his shoulder, walking toward the stairwell at a rapid pace.  Something had obviously gone wrong, and it was probably up to him to fix it.

**********

As soon as the alarm went off Neville panicked, running off down the hall.  Fabio and Jonathan were a little more collected, but after pausing for a split second to assess the situation they too ran, albeit in a different direction than Neville had gone.  Bobby was left to fend for himself, still aiming the gun at the security guard he had captured.  It was something that, even though it was not entirely unexpected, was still very irritating.

The security guard who had set off the alarm regained his balance, drawing his gun.  "Hold it right there!"

Bobby jerked his gun up, aiming it at the head of the guard he was holding hostage.  "You hold it!"

The man only tightened his grip on his gun, yelling at the top of his lungs, "You're under arrest!"

"I don't think so," Bobby said stubbornly.  On the spur of the moment he shoved his hostage into the guard with the gun, sending them both toppling to the floor.  "There you go guys, get to know one another," he said, rushing off down the hall toward the stairwell.  He flung open the door and started running down the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.  He managed to make it down nearly two floors before the sounds of pursuit began to echo down from above.

After what seemed like forever, Bobby reached the ground floor.  He threw open the door and saw a blur of motion running toward him.  Not bothering to take the time to see who it might be, he raised his gun, taking on a defensive stance.

"Whoa, hold it!" Darien yelped, screeching to a halt so fast he almost tripped on his own feet.

"Fielding?" Hobbes said in a shocked tone, lowering his gun and slamming the stairwell door shut.  "What're you doing here?"

"Checking to see if you guys got out okay," Darien said as if that were the most natural thing in the world.

Bobby gave Darien a disbelieving look.  "You been watching daytime television or something?"  Thieves rarely backed each other up in his experience.  Kind of a 'you stab my back, I'll stab yours' situation.  They never watched each other's backs.  Bobby shook his head uncomprehendingly and then grabbed Darien's arm.  "C'mon, we gotta get out of here, they're coming down."  He nodded meaningfully at the stairwell.

Darien obviously didn't need to be told who 'they' were.  "Let's move!" he said, running down the hallway toward the nearest emergency escape exit.  Bobby followed, but surprisingly he didn't have to try too hard to keep up with Darien.  It was almost as if the guy was trying to keep a slow enough pace for Bobby to keep up with him.

Just before they made it to the door the two guards from before flung open the stairwell door and charged out.  The guard with the gun took aim and fired.  The bullet grazed Darien's left shoulder.  Darien let out a yelp of pain and faltered a bit.  Seeing what had just happened, Bobby turned around, firing three bullets at the security guards.  One of them hit the guard who had just fired his gun in the leg, causing him to yelp and drop his gun as he fell to the floor.

The other guard bent down to grab it, but Bobby fired at him too, hitting him in the hand.  The guard swore, jerking back for a split second.  And in that split second Darien slammed his weight against the crash-bar on the emergency exit and ran out of the building.  Bobby followed, ducking through the door just before it closed.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to Darien, who once again seemed to be taking pains to keep his pace at a decent enough speed for Bobby to keep up with him.  "You okay?" Darien asked, looking over at Bobby.

"A lot better off than you are," Bobby replied, gesturing at the wound on Darien's shoulder.  The two of them made a beeline for the van, crossing the street with almost no heed to oncoming traffic.  Neville, Jonathan, and Fabio were already waiting beside it, and looked a little panicked.  Bobby couldn't help a small smile as he realized it was probably because they didn't have any way of getting in and driving off, as he was the only one with the keys.

"Hurry up!" Neville yelped, waving for them to run faster.  Bobby rushed around to the driver's side, unlocking the door and lunging into the van.  He hurriedly unlocked the rest of the doors and then jammed the keys into the ignition, stepping on the gas and careening out of the parking lot.  However, he made sure that the others, especially Darien, were safely inside before he did so.

**********

They arrived back at Roberto's place a little while later, heading in to a back room.  Fabio started to get in a fight with Neville and Jonathan about whose fault it was that the job had gone off so badly, but Darien found it reasonably easy to ignore them.  He was more interested in cleaning the wound on his shoulder.  Letting it get infected would not be a good idea.

After he was convinced that the wound was clean enough, Darien reached for the roll of bandages he'd pulled out of his duffle and started carefully winding it around his arm.  He looked up to find Bobby watching him.  Bobby had a puzzled look on his face, as if he were trying to figure something out.  "What?" Darien asked exasperatedly; he was having a difficult time trying to bandage his left shoulder with only one arm.

"Why'd you stick around?" Bobby asked in a low enough tone that the others couldn't hear.

Darien started to shrug, but realized that wasn't exactly a good idea under the circumstances.  "Where I come from, you don't just leave people behind to get caught by the cops."  Not exactly true, but close enough.  Darien had never liked the idea of abandoning a partner, even if he disliked the person with a vengeance.  And he realized, much to his surprise, that he didn't really dislike Bobby at all.

Bobby shook his head, laughing bitterly.  "Then you must not come from anywhere around here."

Darien frowned and decided to change the subject.  "What about you?  You didn't exactly leave me hanging to dry.  And that shooting was pretty impressive."

Bobby squirmed a little, staring uncomfortably down at the small table Darien had laid his first aid equipment on.  "Just returning a favor, that's all."  He looked up at Darien, mirth dancing in his eyes.  "Where I come from, you have to learn how to shoot."

Darien laughed.  "Where was that?  Manhattan or somethin'?"

Bobby shook his head.  "Slums of Brooklyn, my friend.  Not the best place to grow up."  Darien watched Bobby carefully as he said this.  His tone was light, but there was a sad, mournful look in his eyes that seemed to indicate he wasn't really joking.  Darien didn't have to be a genius to guess that Bobby had probably had a very difficult childhood.

"Well I grew up right here, in good old Ca-li-for-nai-ee," Darien said, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Bobby rolled his eyes.  "Good old Ca-li-for-nai-ee my foot, you don't even get any decent snow over here!  You all think a couple freakin' inches of snow is a blizzard."

Darien shrugged.  "Well, having never seen the stuff, I wouldn't know."

"Man, you've been deprived!" Hobbes said, shaking his head and laughing.  Darien laughed too, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

Fabio, Jonathan, and Neville turned around, frowns on all their faces.  "What's so funny?"  Jonathan asked in an irritated tone.

"Nothing," Darien said, unable to stifle a few last chuckles.

Jonathan looked far from convinced, but before he could say more Fabio spoke up in his business tone.  "Well, the job may not have gone as planned, but we still got what we needed."  That said, he held up the container with the biohazard sticker on the front of it.  "I'll see to it that this gets delivered to our client, and then you boys will get your pay."

Darien had to work very hard to keep from frowning.  He didn't like the idea of having hazardous materials loose on the streets, even for a little while.  He walked up to Fabio, gesturing at the container.  "How do we know this is what we were supposed to be getting?"

Fabio glared at Darien.  "I was given very specific instructions as to where I would find it.  There's no doubt in my mind, this is what we were supposed to recover."

"Whatever, man.  Just don't do anything really stupid like open that, alright?" That said, Darien walked back over to his seat and finished bandaging up his arm, feeling very upset but trying his best not to show it.  He was going to make doubly sure that his contacts over at the FBI recovered that container, and whatever was inside it, before it could be used for any dark purposes.

**********

Later that night, Darien made his way down a dark alley, finally slipping in through the back door of a small coffee-shop.  He walked over to a small booth in the farthest corner, sitting down across from a man with dark hair and a sour expression.  "Okay, here's the deal-"

"Where's my dog?" the man said impatiently.

Darien rolled his eyes.  "Oh come on Jones, you know it's me."  Agent Jones said nothing, but continued staring at Darien with a stern expression on his face.  Darien groaned; he hated this sort of formality.  He finally said in a sullen tone, "The one with the short ears and the long tail?"

"That's the one," Jones said, his expression relaxing just a bit.  "Okay Fawkes, what's the big news?"

"We pulled a job earlier," Darien said, leaning forward a little.  "It went a little wonky, so you probably already know about it.  I'm not sure of exactly what was stolen, but whatever it was, it was in a biohazard container."

Jones nodded thoughtfully.  "Sounds like these guys are a little further up in the thieving hierarchy than we thought."

"Yeah, they're in it pretty deep.  We'd better bust 'em soon," Darien said, giving Jones a meaningful look.

Jones shook his head.  "No can do.  If they're in it this deep, we have a chance of catching some of the really big fish.  I've spent too much of my time on this case to settle for the small stuff."

Darien's face darkened in anger.  "YOU spent?  Okay, let's get something straight right now.  I've been undercover every day for the past eleven months.  I haven't been able to take a day off, I haven't been able to visit my family- Kevin probably thinks I'm trying to alienate him or something!  I'm tired of this, tired of all of it!  I want out.  Right now."

Jones shook his head.  "Sorry pal, but that probably won't be happening any time soon."  He stood up, giving Darien a depreciative look.  "Go get a haircut."  He turned around and walked out of the door, leaving Darien sitting alone in the booth, temper blazing.

Darien glared at the spot Jones had been sitting in for several minutes and then abruptly kicked the table, yelling "Damnit!"  Then he turned and stormed out of the building the way he had come in.


	5. V

Bobby quietly unlocked the door to the house he and Vivian shared and slipped inside, closing the door as gently as possible.  He walked over to the closet and placed his backpack up on the highest shelf, although that meant doing a great deal of stretching.  Then he pulled off his shoes and, carrying one in each hand, walked over to the bedroom and looked in.

Vivian was lying on the bed, curled up in the sheets.  She seemed to be asleep, Bobby noted with relief.  He was even later than usual, and he was sure she would be furious with him had she been awake.  Quietly pulling off his clothes, he tentatively slipped under the sheets.  Maybe if he did it slowly enough Vivian wouldn't notice...

But then she rolled over and Bobby could see that she was very much awake, and probably had been for quite some time.  "Bobby, where were you?  I was worried sick!"  Vivian said, giving him a look that was every bit as angry as Bobby had imagined it would be, if not worse.

"Well... something happened at work and I had to stay late," Bobby said sheepishly.

Vivian frowned.  "You 'stayed late' until three a.m.?"  Bobby nodded, hoping that Vivian wouldn't make him explain further.  Much to his relief, she didn't.  Much to his disappointment, she pushed him out of bed.  "If you'd rather stay at work than come home at a decent time, you can sleep on the couch."

Bobby sighed.  "Aw, come on Viv..." The look Vivian gave him caused him to fall silent in mid-sentence.  He didn't argue, just walked over to the linen closet and pulled out a spare blanket.  But before he walked out of the room he gave Vivian an apologetic and slightly mournful look.

**********

For Darien, the next month was extremely busy.  The thieving ring performed about one robbery each week, two of them dealing with hazardous materials.  Darien was greatly disturbed by this, because no one would tell him whether the chemicals had been successfully recovered or not.  Apparently, the readiness with which he gave information to his employers back at the FBI was not reciprocated.

Meanwhile, he had managed to win the trust of everyone in the thieving ring- except Jonathan Becker.  The man just didn't seem to like him, plain and simple.  And even though he did ease up just the slightest bit, Darien sensed that Jonathan still had a great deal of animosity aimed in his direction.  Of course, the only person Jonathan even remotely seemed to get along with was Fabio.  He and Bobby seemed to be very hostile with each other, although they tried to cover it up when Fabio was around.

Darien, on the other hand, seemed to get along with Bobby surprisingly well.  After that first job, the two of them discovered they seemed to have some sort of natural bond.  They didn't work together too badly either.  It was a fast friendship, and one that surprised Darien greatly.  He tried to prevent it at first, not wanting to create emotional ties with any of the thieves he was supposed to be spying on.  But the friendship progressed despite his best efforts to the contrary, and eventually he stopped trying to hamper it.

And slowly, bit by bit, feelings of guilt began to build up inside of him, for he knew very well that eventually he would have to arrest Bobby and send him to prison.

**********

Bobby drove his black van down the road toward Fabio's condo by the beach.  He wasn't planning a job, though; he was looking for a way to get out of one.  Every day now, Vivian was getting angrier and angrier with Bobby.  He was afraid she might dump him if he didn't do something, and fast.  So, he was going to try and requisition some time off.

After a few minutes, he brought the van to a stop in front of Fabio's condo.  He walked up to the door and banged on it roughly, ignoring the doorbell situated nearby.  "Hold on!" Fabio called from inside, sounding extremely irritated.  A few seconds later the door opened, revealing Fabio standing there dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts.  "What do you want?" he asked gruffly, giving Bobby an icy glare.

"Well, I was wondering if, you know, seeing as how I've been working so hard the past few months..." Bobby paused for a moment, realizing he was babbling.  He'd have to check with his latest shrink to make sure the meds were working properly.  "I want some time off," he said quickly, figuring that it would be best if he just said it and got it over with.

"Sorry," Fabio snapped, "not gonna happen.  I've just scheduled us for another month of heists."

Bobby frowned.  "Look, I really need some time off.  Just give me a week-"

Fabio shook his head.  "I booked us.  All of us.  You should've asked earlier.  Now go away, I'm busy."

Bobby frowned and was about to ask just how busy Fabio could be when he was dressed in nothing but his boxer shorts when a sultry female voice called out from somewhere inside, "Sweetie, come back to bed."  Bobby raised an eyebrow at Fabio, who now looked a little embarrassed.  Then he turned and walked back to his van without another word.

He climbed into the driver's side and placed the keys in the ignition, but he didn't drive away.  He was too busy trying to think of how he could possibly live through another month of Vivian forcing him to sleep out on the couch.  He sighed, resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

And then it hit him.  There might be a way to get Vivian back in his good graces.  After all, he loved her and she loved him, so maybe, just maybe...  Bobby sat up and turned the keys in the ignition, starting up the van and squealing off down the road.

**********

Darien was sprawled out upon the couch of his apartment, chin resting against his chest, eyes closed in a light slumber.  He started awake as someone began to knock loudly on the door, his muscles tensing in a manner that almost caused him to fall off the couch.  He walked over to the front door and opened it, half-expecting Jones to be the one standing outside.  Instead, he was surprised to see Bobby Hobbes standing in the doorway before him.

"Fielding, I need to ask you for a favor," he said, fixing Darien with a solemn gaze.

"What sort of favor?" Darien asked suspiciously, unsure of what to expect.

Bobby leaned a little closer and said in a low tone of voice, "The kind you don't talk about in open hallways."

Darien frowned slightly; that was what he had been afraid of.  "C'mon in," he said, stepping back to give Bobby room to enter the apartment.  Bobby walked in, looking a little uncomfortable.  "So, what's the favor?" Darien asked as soon as he'd closed the door.

"Well, umm... I need you to help me pull off a job.  A very special job," Bobby said, still looking slightly ill at ease.

Darien waited for a moment, expecting more information.  Then he said in a prompting tone, "What sort of special job?"  He was going to have to refuse it, he knew that, but he still wanted to know what was going on.

"Engagement ring," Bobby said quickly, "I need you to help me steal an engagement ring."

A broad grin began to make its way across Darien's face, despite the mention of the word 'steal'.  "Ohhhh, you're gonna pop the question, huh?  Who's the lucky lady?"

"Don't you start," Bobby said, giving Darien a threatening look.

Darien immediately assumed a more professional demeanor.  "You got anything in mind?"

Bobby nodded.  "Yeah, and I've got a plan too, but I need some help getting in the building, and I figured you were the best person to ask."

Darien sighed.  "I wish I could help you, Hobbes, but..."  The look in Bobby's eyes stopped him cold.  They were filled with hope, a slight tinge of desperation... and trust.  Bobby trusted him.  No one had trusted him ever since he'd gone undercover.  Trust just wasn't part of the thieving business.  And yet, Bobby trusted him.  Crap, that made everything so much more complicated...  And before Darien fully realized what he was doing, he said, "Okay, I'll do it."

Bobby smiled.  "I hoped you would."  He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and walked over to Darien's couch, spreading the paper out on the coffee-table in front of it.  "Okay, here's what we do..."

**********

Darien and Bobby stood on the roof of a small jewelry store, their target for the night.  They were both decked out in black from the neck down, although they were not yet wearing the obligatory ski masks.  "You ready?" Bobby asked, glancing over at Darien.

Darien closed his eyes and took a deep, somewhat shaky breath.  If he did this he would be breaking the law in earnest.  It would quite likely mean he was becoming his father, the one thing he had never wanted to be.  But then again, he thought bitterly, thanks to his superiors back at the bureau he'd already been heading in that direction anyway.  He took another deep breath in an attempt to calm himself and then opened his eyes, turning to Bobby.  "Yeah, I'm ready."

Darien pulled his ski mask over his head, ruthlessly smashing his hair flat in the process.  Bobby pulled on his mask as well, and then the two of them began to set up their harnesses.  They were going to rappel down through the skylight, since it was the easiest way to get inside without being detected.

Bobby opened the skylight and Darien slid down his rope into the dark building, carefully controlling his rate of descent.  He was going down first, since he had the wonderful job of disabling the security cameras.  Like always, this didn't take long for him.  When he was finished he walked back over to the skylight and indicated that Bobby could come down.

Moments later Bobby was standing beside Darien, unhooking himself from the harness.  "Okay, let's get the goods."

Darien nodded; he just wanted to get this job over with.  He kept trying to tell himself that he was only doing this to give Bobby and the others a little more reason to believe his credibility, but he knew he was only fooling himself.  The truth was, he had no idea why he was doing this, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.  Besides, self-analysis would take up too much of his concentration right now.

Bobby carefully began to make his way through the store, pulling out a mag-light and using it to illuminate the display cases.  Finally he seemed to find what he was looking for.  "This is it!" he said excitedly, motioning for Darien to come over and see.

Darien stepped up beside Bobby and let out a low whistle when he saw the item in question.  It was a small, gold engagement ring, studded with several small diamonds.  "Wow, that's a real piece of work.  Is the girl worth the ring?" Darien asked, glancing over at Bobby as he spoke.

"Definitely.  Question's more like whether the ring is good enough for her," Bobby replied quietly.  Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass-cutter.  He carefully cut a circle of glass out of the display case and then reached a gloved hand inside to pick up the ring.  However, as soon as he lifted it out of its place an alarm started to ring.

Darien paled.  "Aw crap, they must've had pressure sensors," he said, silently berating himself for not thinking of that earlier.

"Perfect, just perfect," Bobby muttered, pulling his hand out of the hole in the glass.  He and Darien both ran for the nearest exit, which happened to be the storefront window.  They smashed through it, scattering glass everywhere, and continued running.  Just as they turned down a dark alleyway a police-car pulled onto the street.  Bobby swore and started running faster.  Darien sped up too, wondering what in the world he could have done to deserve this.  Of course, he didn't elaborate on the thought; he was afraid he would probably think of an answer if he did.

Darien hoped desperately that maybe the police hadn't noticed them turning into the alley, but even as he thought this the police-car careened into the alley after them.  Darien swore and ran even faster, turning a corner in the alley- and came face to face with a brick wall.  He skidded to a stop so fast that Bobby slammed into him, causing both of them to fall to the ground.

"Fielding, what're you- oh," Bobby said as he saw the wall before him.  Darien noticed that the ring had fallen on the ground, presumably when he and Bobby had collided.  He picked it up, placing it in his pocket just before the police car pulled up in front of them, blocking their only escape route.

"Freeze!  You're under arrest!" a policeman yelled, jumping out of the police-car and aiming his gun directly at Darien and Bobby.  Darien and Bobby looked at each other, and then raised their hands in tandem.  The policeman walked up to them, quickly joined by his partner.  The two of them slammed Darien and Bobby up against a wall, reciting something Darien knew all too well.  "You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can and will be used against you..."


	6. VI

Darien sat sullenly in the featureless room he had been placed inside of for questioning earlier that evening.  He hadn't said a word since he'd been placed there, other than asking for his phone call.  He'd used it to contact Agent Jones, although it wasn't something he had relished doing.  The crap had hit the fan, and Darien would have to answer for it.

The question of why he had agreed to help Bobby steal that ring briefly flitted through his brain, but he pushed the thought out of his mind.  He'd done what he'd done, and now he had to face the consequences.  Thinking any more about it would be a waste of time at this point.

And then, naturally, came thoughts of Kevin.  Darien had seriously considered calling Kevin instead of Jones when he had first been dragged in here, but he knew very well that nothing good would have come out of that.  After all, Darien was an enforcer of the law.  What would Kevin think if he got a phone call in the middle of the night saying 'Hey bro, I know I haven't talked to you in about a year, but I just got arrested for robbing a jewelry store and could you come bail me out?'  Yeah, that'd come across real well...

Darien let out a mirthless chuckle and muttered to himself, "Stick a fork in me, I'm done."

"You certainly are."  Darien looked up in surprise.  Jones was standing in the room, giving him the sort of look most men usually reserved for unwanted parasites.

"Jonesy!" Darien said, giving the man an obnoxious grin.  "Wassup, man?  Hey, you're not gonna make me recite any of those stupid code phrases, are you?"

"You're in it deep this time, Fawkes," Jones said tersely.

Darien nodded.  "Yeah, I know, my ass is grass.  Can we skip that whole bit and get down to business?"

"We are getting down to business.  You and I both know this wasn't one of the official jobs Fabio arranged.  One more stunt like this and you'll be kicked out of the bureau faster than you can say-"

"I know that," Darien said, giving Jones an irritated glare.  "And you know that I need to get out of here.  I can't finish my job if I'm behind bars.  And we can't keep Hobbes here either, the others might get suspicious."

Jones shook his head.  "It'll take a lot of greasing."

"But you're gonna do it, right?"

"Yeah, of course, it's my job to pull you out of the frying pan," Jones said, giving Darien an irritated look.  "But I'm gonna need the evidence.  If I have that, it might be easier to convince the cops to let you go."

Darien sighed and placed a hand in his pocket, absently running his gloved fingers over the ring nestled therein.  If he gave the ring to Jones it would definitely be a lot easier to smooth things over.  But Bobby would be furious.  Of course, if he didn't do it then there would quite likely be a great deal of red tape to be fought through before he could be released, and Bobby would likely end up stuck in jail.  And Darien would have wasted a year of his life on an undercover job that had gone nowhere.

Darien reluctantly pulled the ring out of his pocket and handed it to Jones.  "There.  That's what we stole."

Jones took the ring, looking at Darien suspiciously for a moment as if he didn't believe that it was all that had been stolen.  "You should be out of here in about half an hour."  He turned and started to walk out of the room, but paused for a moment.  "You know, I think you were right when you said you'd been undercover too long.  You're starting to think like a criminal."

Darien said nothing.  He just fixed Jones with an icy glare.  After a moment Jones walked out of the room, once again leaving Darien in solitude.  Darien ran a hand through his hair, heaving a deep sigh.  This was quite a mess he'd gotten himself into.

**********

Sure enough, a half hour later Darien was allowed to leave the police station, as was Bobby.  Unfortunately, Bobby's van was still parked back at the jewelry store, so they had no ready mode of transportation.  Plus, Bobby insisted on talking about the strange events of the night.  "I'm telling you Fielding, the police don't usually just let people go like that!"

"They do when they don't have the evidence to hold you," Darien said, giving Bobby an exasperated look.

Bobby paled a bit at this, sticking his hands in his pockets.  He looked even more upset when he pulled them out empty.  "Aw crap, I lost the ring!   I must've dropped it in that alley or something.  We've gotta find it," he said, a desperate look on his face.

"Hobbes, it's probably not there anymore.  Someone could've just come along and grabbed it."

Bobby shook his head frantically.  "No, it's there, it's gotta be there."

Darien felt completely guilt-ridden.  He couldn't tell Bobby that he knew for certain that the ring wasn't in the alleyway, because one thing would lead to another and Bobby would eventually figure out everything, including Darien's real job.  He was intelligent, after all, and the fact that he was sometimes extremely paranoid could only help him in this case.  To tell the truth, Darien was a little surprised that Bobby hadn't started to put the pieces together already.  But maybe in this case the little tiger didn't want to.

Darien placed his hand on Bobby's shoulder.  "Okay, man.  If it's there, we'll find it."  They wouldn't, of course, but the only way to convince Bobby of that would be to search that alley from one corner to the other.  And if Darien helped with this lost cause, at least it wouldn't last as long.

**********

For Darien, everything was pretty straightforward and predicable for the next three weeks.  He met with Fabio, Bobby, and the rest of the group three nights a week.  About once a week, they pulled off a robbery.  And every other day Darien reported back to Jones, who was predictably irritable each and every time he and Darien came into contact.  The feeling was mutual, but Darien tried to keep his temper in check.  After all, he was in a world of trouble with the bureau at the moment.  The best thing he could do at the moment was try to play nice, whether he was being sincere or not.

**********

Darien and Bobby were sitting uncomfortably in one of the back rooms of Roberto's Place when Fabio walked into the room, an uncharacteristic grin on his face.  "Boys, I have some good news," he said, looking at Darien and Bobby, as well as Jonathan and Neville, who were sitting on the opposite side of the room.

Bobby gave Fabio an extremely peeved look.  "Good enough to explain why you made us come down here at two in the frickin' morning?"

Fabio ignored Bobby's comment.  "We're being given a great honor.  After our next job, our employer is going to pick up the equipment we're going to be stealing for him."

Darien, who was no more pleased than Bobby about being dragged out of bed at two a.m. on his night off, or as close to a night off as he ever got, grumbled "So?" in a surly tone.

"He's coming in person!" Fabio said, giving Darien an irritated look.  "He's a very influential man.  It would be wise if we made a good impression on him.  Might even get us more clients," he added, his grin making its way back onto his face.  Bobby cleared his throat loudly at this, giving Fabio a stern look.  Fabio rolled his eyes and said, "But, after this next job all of you will be given a two week vacation."

Everyone whooped and cheered at this, including Darien.  But inwardly, he wasn't as happy as he let on.  This information called for yet another meeting with Jones, and that was one of the many parts of this job he had grown to hate.

***********

Thirty minutes later, Darien walked into a seedy bar.  He ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to make it even more unruly than it already was- anything to tick Jones off- and walked over to a small table in the darkest corner of the room.  He was the first to arrive, for once; he had been waiting for nearly ten minutes by the time Jones walked into the room, looking as if he had been dressed by a colorblind chimp.

"Fawkes, do you have any idea what time it is?" Jones asked, glaring angrily at Darien.

"Yes, which is just why I called you down here," Darien said, giving Jones an irritating smirk.  "It's about the job on Monday night.  The guy we've been stealing junk for is gonna come pick up the goods in person."

Jones stood up abruptly as Darien finished speaking.  "Excuse me, I have to make a phone call..."  Then he walked out of the room.  Darien waited for a good ten minutes, but Jones didn't make a reappearance.  Finally, just as he stood up to leave, Jones walked back into the room.  Darien sat down again, giving the other man an irritated look.  But before he could ask what was going on, Jones spoke.  "It's time."

Darien rolled his eyes.  "Time for what?"

"Time to take these guys down.  Right after the next job, when your employer comes over to pick up the merchandise."

"Finally found that bigger fish?" Darien asked sarcastically.

"Oh, he's bigger than you know.  We at the Bureau have reason to believe that the person you've been stealing for is the terrorist known as Javier."

Darien broke out laughing at this, shaking his head.  "You've gotta be joking!"  His laughter slowed to a halt as he realized that Jones wasn't laughing with him.  In fact, Jones had never looked more serious in his life.  "You are joking, right?"  Jones shook his head slowly.  Darien paled, sinking back into his chair.  Javier was a relative newcomer to the world of terrorism, but he seemed determined to make a name for himself.  And sure enough, he had.  The FBI had been trying to take him down for almost a year and a half now, without success.

"Aw crap..."  

Jones nodded.  "Yep, that just about covers it."

A thought occurred to Darien that sent chills up his spine.  He looked up at Jones, asking quietly, "How long have you known?"

"About two weeks now."

Two weeks, Darien thought.  They had been keeping this from him for two weeks.  "You didn't tell me," he said listlessly.

Jones gave Darien a slightly smug look.  "Well, after the incident three weeks ago, we weren't sure it would be a good idea."

Those words hit Darien harder than any number of petty insults would have.  He was no longer trusted over at the Bureau.  He'd known he was in trouble, known he was going to be penalized in some way after he broke his cover, known that Jones regarded him as an outcast.  But the thought that he might be regarded as an outcast by the entire Bureau had never occurred to him.  Now, though, it crashed through all his barriers, leaving him feeling strangely numb.  "I'm gonna go home and get some sleep," he said, standing up and walking toward the door.  Jones didn't do anything to stop him.

Darien climbed into his car and drove off in a daze.  He was going to be undercover for all of three more days, and then on Monday he would finally be done with this job.  No more worrying about whether he might get discovered, no more nights spent robbing places when he would have rather been in bed sleeping.  Just three more days, and he was done.

But what was going to happen after that?  He had no real personal life at this point.  Everyone back at the FBI obviously considered him some kind of a joke now, if not worse.  He had no one he could turn to, except maybe Kevin, and he wasn't too sure Kevin would be willing to come back and play the role of the supporting big brother after Darien had to all appearances been ignoring him for the past thirteen months.

And oh God, he was going to have to arrest Bobby.

Darien abruptly decided that a direct trip home wasn't such a good idea after all.  He pulled into the nearest gas station, walking inside.  He headed right for the section of the store where they kept the beer and grabbed a twelve-pack, paused a moment, and grabbed another.  Then he walked over and placed them on the counter where a kid barely out of his teens was manning the lone cash register.

The kid looked at the cans of beer on the counter and then up at Darien, a mischevious smile spreading across his face.  "Having a party, dude?"

"You could say that," Darien replied absently.

The kid rang up the two twelve-packs, placing them in a large plastic bag.  As he leaned over the counter to hand them to Darien he said, "Well invite me next time, okay man?"

Darien said nothing, just grabbed the bag out of the kid's hand and walked outside.  He climbed back in his car, placing the beer in the passenger seat, and drove the rest of the way back to his apartment.

He held the bag full of beer cans in one hand as he walked up to his apartment, taking a strange sort of comfort from the bag's weight.  As soon as he unlocked the door and walked in, he placed the bag on his kitchen counter and pulled out a can.  He regarded it for a moment, and then opened it and took a long swig, relishing the feel of the alcohol as it washed down his throat.  In just thirty seconds, the entire can was gone.

Darien crumpled up the empty can and threw it in the trash.  Then he reached for another.  He began nursing this one more carefully, walking over to his couch and sitting down.  It was only Friday- no, technically it was early Saturday morning now- and he didn't need to be anywhere until Monday evening.  Until then, he could get as drunk as he wanted.  And right now, he desperately wanted to get drunk.


	7. VII

Bobby walked into Darien's apartment, looking around warily.  Darien hadn't been answering his phone, and since it was Monday morning and they had a job that evening, it was definitely not a good thing.  It certainly didn't bode well with Bobby.  He'd been getting decidedly worried over the past couple of hours, and had finally decided that the best thing to do would be to check up on Darien, just in case something had gone wrong.  It hadn't been hard to slip inside; Bobby had just picked the lock.

Now, as he looked around the room, he could see that his suspicions had been more than justified.  The entire apartment was in a state of disarray.  Clothes and empty beer cans were scattered all over, various pieces of furniture had been knocked down, and the bookshelf, which had been loaded down with books the last time Bobby had been here, had its contents scattered all over the room.

Continuing his investigation, Bobby began to look around for any immediate signs of trouble.  But, other than the general state of disarray, there was nothing that indicated a specific problem.  No bloodstains or bullet-holes in the walls.  But no Darien either.  Eventually, there was only one place left to search; the bedroom.  Bobby was reluctant to go in, but it was the only place he hadn't searched yet.

The bedroom door was firmly closed.  Bobby stood in front of it for several minutes, deliberating on whether or not he should open it and go inside.  Finally he lifted his hand and turned the doorknob.  The door swung open slowly, letting out a long, loud creak as it did so.

The first thing Bobby noticed was the smell.  It was far from pleasant; it seemed to be a strange mixture of beer and vomit.  Bobby wrinkled his nose in disgust and stepped into the room.  What he saw inside didn't do very much to alleviate his concern.

The room was littered with half a dozen empty beer cans.  They, combined with the cans out in the other room, would have been more than enough to keep anyone drunk all weekend.  And, lying on the bed and holding a half-full beer can in one hand, was Darien.  He didn't look good; he obviously hadn't shaved over the weekend and he was wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the last time Bobby had seen him, which were now stained with beer.

Darien looked up, a drunken grin on his face.  "Bobby!  How ya doin'?" he asked, his voice slurred.

Bobby frowned.  "Better than you."

Darien laughed, shaking his head.  "Ahh, 'm fine."

"Nah, I don't think you are."  Bobby took a few steps closer.  Darien promptly clutched the beer can to his chest.  "Give it to me," Bobby said sternly.

Darien's grip on the can tightened and he shook his head stubbornly.  "Nuh-uh.  This's mine, get yer own."

Bobby's temper was growing harder to control by the second.  Seeing his friend in this state was disturbing, to say the least.  He finished crossing the distance between him and the bed, grabbing the beer can out of Darien's hand.  Darien fought to keep hold of it, but his reflexes were extremely slow and Bobby managed to get it out of his grasp without too much trouble.

"Give 't back!" Darien protested angrily, lunging up off of the bed in an attempt to stop Bobby but succeeding only in falling to the floor in an ungainly heap.

Bobby could feel his temper flaring out of control.  "You want it?" he asked, a dangerous gleam in his eye.  "Well, you can have it!"  He threw the can, which missed Darien's head by mere inches before crashing into the wall.

Darien looked over at the beer can and then back at Bobby with an almost comical expression of surprise on his face.  "What's yer problem?" he yelped, giving Bobby a nervous look.

Bobby's anger faded as he looked at Darien lying so despondently on the floor.  He hadn't seen Darien take more than the occasional beer during the last two months; whatever had caused this sudden bout of alcoholism was probably very serious.  "Sorry," he mumbled, sitting down next to Darien.  "Why'd you do this?" he asked, gesturing around the room at all the empty cans lying around.  "You don't exactly seem the type."

Darien laughed bitterly.  "You'd be surprised..."  Then he looked up at Bobby, a slightly perplexed look on his face.  "What're you doin' here, anyway?"

"We've got a job tonight, remember?"

Darien frowned.  "Yeah, I remember."

Bobby gave Darien an exasperated look.  "Then why'd you go and do this?"

"Wanted t' forget," Darien said in a somber tone.

Bobby shook his head.  "Fielding, you're not making any sense."  He paused for a minute and then asked in a quieter tone, "You wanna talk about it?" He was hoping Darien would give him an explanation of some kind, but Darien said nothing.  "Guess not."

Darien abruptly made an attempt to get up, a slightly panicked expression on his face.  "Umm, be right back..."  He promptly made a mad dash for his bathroom.  Moments later, retching sounds could quite clearly be heard coming from the general vicinity.

Bobby heaved a deep sigh, running a hand across his face.  "It's gonna be a long day..."   He could only hope that Darien had made it to the toilet.

**********

Bobby spent the rest of the morning caring for Darien and cleaning up his apartment.  But as morning wore on into afternoon Darien's temperament showed no signs of improvement, thanks to that wonderful malady known as a hangover.  "Get up," Bobby said, poking the rumpled figure that was entwined in the sheets.

Darien let out a loud moan.  "Too bright."

Bobby continued to prod Darien's sheet-covered body with one hand, saying in a mildly reproachful tone, "Hey, you were the one that decided to drink half the beer in the state.  It's your own fault you're in this situation, now get your skinny butt outta bed!"

"If I get up I'll puke," Darien protested, making no move to get out of bed.  Bobby gave Darien a sharp dig in the ribs with his elbows and then yanked the sheets off Darien's body.  Darien responded by grabbing his pillow and mashing it firmly down over his head.  "Go 'way."

Bobby, who was every bit as stubborn as Darien, grabbed the pillow and after a brief struggle managed to yank it out of his grasp.  "Do I have to dump a bucket of cold water on you too?" he asked in a threatening tone.

Darien opened his eyes just enough to give Bobby an irritated glare, and then reluctantly sat up.  "Alright, I'm up already!"

Bobby smiled.  "That's better."  Then he reached over and grabbed some items of clothing and a towel he had located earlier, thrusting them into Darien's arms.  "Go get cleaned up.  I've made some-"

Darien held up a hand, interrupting Bobby in mid-sentence.  "Don't say anything that involves food."

Bobby put his hands up in mock-surrender.  "Whatever you say, man."  He glanced at his watch and then frowned.  "Aw crap, it's getting late, I need to go.  You think you'll be okay now?"

Darien nodded.  "Yeah, I can handle it.  Go on, get outta here," he said, waving Bobby out of the bedroom and closing the door.

Bobby shook his head.  "Not even a thank-you.  Typical," he muttered, turning around and preparing to leave.  But before he left he made sure to gather up any remaining beer cans that weren't empty.  He dropped them into the first available trash can on his way out.

**********

Darien had finished gathering together the equipment necessary for the job that night.  However, there were three more things he needed to locate so he could pull this off properly.  The first was relatively easy to find; he just pulled his cell phone from its charger and tucked it in his jacket pocket.  The second two, however, he knew would be a little more difficult to get at.

Darien walked into the main room of his apartment, absently noting that the room seemed cleaner than he remembered it being the last time he'd seen it.  He didn't dwell on that realization, though.  He walked over to his bookcase and began to push it away from the wall.  It was far from easy; the bookcase was extremely heavy, and would have taken Darien quite a lot of effort to move even without the books, which Bobby had placed back on the shelves.  But Darien was determined, and after a couple of minutes of straining and tugging, he managed to move it.

There was a small hole in the wall, about twelve inches long and four inches high.  Darien reached inside, hoping desperately that no errant spiders had decided to make it their home.  He needn't have worried, though; when he pulled his hand back out, all he held was a clear plastic bag with his ID badge, his .44, and two clips of ammunition inside.

Darien opened the plastic bag and pulled out his gun and the clips of ammo, shoving one of them into the gun and the other into his pocket.  He pulled out his badge, shoving that into his pocket as well.  Then, after making sure his gun's safety was on, he placed it in his duffle bag along with the rest of his equipment.  He slung the bag over his shoulder, a frown on his face.  Once again, it was time to head off to work, and once again he found himself dreading the upcoming job.  However, his reasons for dreading it were very different than they had been in the past.

**********

About an hour after they had finished the robbery, Darien, Bobby, Neville, Jonathan, and Fabio were all gathered outside of a small warehouse.  Darien had discretely turned on his cell phone a few minutes ago.  Theoretically, Jones and the other members of whatever team he'd managed to pull together should have triangulated where the signal was coming from and be on their way by now.  The only problem was Javier was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" Jonathan asked, glancing pointedly at Fabio.

"Patience," Fabio muttered, "he'll be here soon."

"We've been waiting almost ten minutes!" Neville exclaimed, squirming anxiously.

"He _will be here soon," Fabio reiterated solemnly._

Bobby glanced over at Darien.  "You okay there?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet enough so that the others couldn't hear.  "You look a little tense."

Darien was very tense indeed, but he merely shook his head, muttering in a hushed tone, "I'm fine."

Bobby considered this for a moment and then said, "Girlfriend?"

Darien shook his head.  "Definitely not."

Bobby rolled his eyes.  "Well, something's bugging you."

Darien sighed, wishing he could find a way to get Bobby off his case.  "I don't wanna talk about it."

Bobby frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Fabio held up a hand.  "Shh!  He's here!"

Sure enough, a black car had just pulled up into the parking lot.  Three large, muscular guards and a man in a business suit stepped out, walking toward the warehouse.  Fabio began walking toward them, carrying the case that Darien had helped to steal earlier that evening.  Darien had no clue what was inside, not having had the opportunity to look yet, but if Javier wanted it, it couldn't be anything good.

"Hello sir," Fabio said, walking up to the man in the suit, who was obviously Javier.  "We have the goods right here.  Now, if you have the money, we can-"

"Why did you bring them?" Javier asked in a stern tone, gesturing to Darien and the others.

Fabio shrugged.  "I didn't see any harm in it."

"I do," Javier growled.  "That man," he said, pointing directly at Darien, "is a federal agent!"  Javier's men pulled out their firearms, aiming them at Darien.

There was a whirl of responses from the other members of the thieving ring.   Bobby shook his head in disbelief, saying that there must have been some kind of mistake.  Jonathan whirled on Darien with a dangerous look in his eyes, exclaiming, "I knew he was trouble!" at the top of his lungs.  Neville's mouth dropped open in shock, and Fabio immediately began protesting the presence of the guns currently being aimed at Darien's person.

Darien, on the other hand, was trying to keep himself from panicking.  There was no way he could immediately tell whether Javier really knew or was just suspicious.  So, he opted for the smart-aleck routine.  "Me?  A fed?"  He laughed, shaking his head in feigned amusement.  "Pull the other one."

"I don't joke, Mister Fielding.  Or should I say Mister Fawkes?" Javier said, giving Darien a pointed look.  "I always make sure to do a very thorough background check on all of my employees, no matter how miniscule they may seem.  A very, very thorough background check.  Too bad you didn't think to do the same," he hissed, glancing over at Fabio.  He looked at his men and then gestured at Darien, saying in an authorative tone, "Shoot him."


	8. VIII

"Wait!" Bobby yelled.

Javier held up a hand to indicate that his men should pause for a moment and turned toward Bobby, giving him an irritated look. "What?"

"Prove he's a fed," Bobby said, a steely glint in his eye. "I mean, for all I know you could just be shooting him to shoot him!"

Javier considered that for a moment and then said, "Very well, search him yourself."

"Alright then, I will." Darien didn't say anything, but his heart sank. If Bobby was trying to prove him innocent, the plan was about to backfire. Bobby walked over to Darien and began to pat him down. It didn't take long for him to find the ID Darien had put in his pocket earlier. A pained expression appeared on Bobby's face as he realized what it was. He looked up at Darien, a surprised expression on his face. "Oh crap..."

Darien had to say something. "Hobbes, I can explain-"

At that moment Jones stepped out of the shadows, gun drawn, followed by about a dozen other FBI agents. "Freeze!" he hollered. Javier's men immediately pivoted on their heels and began firing at the feds. Jones and his men returned fire. And naturally, Darien and Bobby were standing right in the middle of the crossfire.

Darien dropped to the ground, grabbing Bobby's arm and yanking him down as well. He glanced around frantically, and finally saw what he had been looking for- the duffel bag that contained his gun. He began crawling toward it frantically, ignoring the flying bullets and the screams of pain as some of them hit their targets.

After what seemed to be an eternity he reached his duffel. He threw it open hurriedly and pulled out his gun, flipping off the safety. However, before he could do anything else he felt another gun barrel jabbed into his back. "Hold it right there, fibbie." Darien frowned. He knew that voice; it was Jonathan.

"What're you doing?" Darien hissed.

"I'm takin' me a hostage," Jonathan replied. "Now drop your gun."

Darien slowly began to lower his gun, but just before it touched the ground he whirled around and pushed Jonathan's gun to the side. The gun discharged, but Jonathan's aim had been so badly skewed that the bullet impacted harmlessly against a building. Darien smashed Jonathan's hand against the ground until he dropped the gun, and then picked it up. "Sorry, but I've never liked hostage situations," he said, giving Jonathan a stern glare.

By then the firefight in the alley had drawn to a close. Darien stood to his feet and looked around. Apparently, the feds had won. Most of Javier's men were lying on the ground, either dead or wounded. Jones walked over to Javier, fastening a pair of handcuffs around the latter man's wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

Darien stopped paying attention to what Jones was saying, since he'd heard and recited those words more times than he cared to remember. He looked around the alley, keeping an eye out for the members of the thieving ring he had until moments earlier been a part of.

Fabio had taken cover behind a trash can and was currently in the process of being arrested by one of the federal agents. Neville was also having a pair of handcuffs slapped on his wrists. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe what was happening to him. Jonathan tried to run for it, but an agent barreled after him, slamming him into a wall and slapping a pair of cuffs on his wrists as well.

Bobby was just standing up from where Darien had pushed him to the ground. Darien glanced around, but all of the other federal agents were busy dealing with criminals or corpses. Darien swore under his breath. Then he walked over and put a hand on Bobby's shoulder. Bobby turned slowly, fixing Darien with an accusing gaze. He didn't need to say anything; the words hung in the air without ever having been spoken. 'I thought we were friends.'

Darien took a deep breath and then said in an authorative tone, "You have the right to remain silent..."

**********

Bobby lay on his cot in the tiny cell he had been placed in until it was time for the trial. He stared mournfully at the ceiling. There wasn't anything else for him to do. After a while a guard stepped into the room. "You've got a visitor," he said, gesturing behind him. Then he stepped out of the doorway and Vivian walked into the room, coming to a stop in front of the bars that separated Bobby's cell from the main hallway.

Bobby sat up, eyes widening hopefully. "Viv?"

Vivian refused to meet Bobby's gaze. "Bobby, I came to say goodbye. You won't be hearing from me again."

Bobby stared up at Vivian uncomprehendingly. "What?"

"Don't start with me, Bobby! I just can't take it any more. You lied to me one too many times. This..." she said, gesturing around her at the walls of the prison, "is the last straw! I don't want to see you ever again. I've taken out a restraining order."

Bobby paled. "Come on Viv, I can change, if you'll just be patient with me I'll do better!" Vivian looked at Bobby sadly and shook her head, turning to leave. "Viv, I love you!" Bobby exclaimed, running up to the bars that separated him from her and seizing them in a death grip.

Vivian turned around for a moment, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I know, Bobby. But that's just not good enough." Then she walked out of the room, the guard following after her.

Bobby stared at the door she had just walked through, wincing as it slammed shut. Then he let go of the bars and slid to the floor, stricken with grief. He closed his eyes, whispering softly, "Vivian..." Then the tears began to flow.

**********

Three months later Darien lay on the couch in his apartment, eyes squeezed shut. He was suffering from a hangover. It was nothing new; ever since he'd been taken off undercover duty he usually woke up with a hangover at least two or three times a week. He knew it was far from healthy, but at this point drinking was just about the only thing he felt like doing in his spare time. It allowed him to forget the fact that his life was currently lying dead in the gutter, if only for a little while.

Javier, Fabio, Jonathan, Neville, and Bobby had all been sent to jail, although the jail time differed for each of them because of their different criminal records. Bobby had been put in for two years. Most of the other members of the thieving ring were going to be locked up for a lot longer, though. Javier was being sent in for life.

The most memorable parts of the ordeal for Darien were when Bobby and Jonathan had each been taken from the courtroom to await their incarceration. Jonathan had been sentenced to ten years. He hadn't liked that one bit. In fact, Darien distinctly remembered Jonathan yelling death threats at him as he was dragged out of the courtroom. Bobby, on the other hand, had left the courtroom with a shell-shocked expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.

Just then Darien's alarm clock began to emit raucous tones. Darien reluctantly stood to his feet and began digging around for a clean suit. He wasn't looking forward to going to work today. He hadn't been looking forward to that ever since he'd begun doing it. It was a great deal harder for him to establish any realm of credibility now with the other agents. They often gave him the cold shoulder, and he gladly returned the favor.

Eventually, after several minutes of digging through his closet, he managed to find a suit that didn't have any coffee stains on it and looked like it had only been slept in once. He pulled the jacket on over his t-shirt, grabbed his sneakers out from underneath the couch, grabbed his badge, and walked out of the door.

**********

Darien walked into Assistant Director Hiram's office. Hiram, a thin man with a rather obvious comb-over, looked up as Darien walked into the room. "Agent Fawkes, have a seat," he said, gesturing to a chair facing his desk.

Darien sat down, squirming uncomfortably. "Sir, if it isn't too much to ask, why am I here?"

Hiram folded his hands on the desk in front of him and gave Darien a stern look. "It has come to my attention that you've been having some problems living up to the standards we set here at the Bureau."

Darien crossed his arms and fixed Hiram with a steady gaze. "Who says?"

"Agent Jones."

Darien rolled his eyes. "Figures." He looked at Hiram and said in a deceptively casual tone, "So you're just gonna take what that twit says on face value?"

"I've researched this matter very thoroughly, Agent Fawkes," Hiram said gravely, "and I must say that I'm disappointed by your conduct lately. I'm going to have to suspend you until further notice."

Darien gave Hiram a disbelieving look. "What? You don't have any reason to do that!"

Hiram leaned back in his chair, a slightly smug expression on his face. "Actually, I do. Ever since you stopped working undercover your general attitude has been uncannily similar to that of a rebellious teenager. You seem to have slacked off greatly on the job, you're late on an almost daily basis, you have showed up twice for work while intoxicated, and your personal appearance is very bad for morale."

Darien frowned. "What's wrong with the way I look?" he asked in a belligerent tone, absently running a hand through his hair as he spoke.

Hiram gave Darien an exasperated look; he was obviously very displeased by the lack of respect Darien was showing him. "Your choice of attire is sorely lacking, you haven't shaved in at least three days, and your hair is about as far from being a regulation cut as you can get."

Darien glared at Hiram, his face taut with barely-suppressed anger. "So my hair's a bit unusual and I forget to shave sometimes. That's not any excuse to put me on suspension! I mean, you might as well fire me!"

Hiram stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea."

Darien lunged to his feet, slamming a hand down on Hiram's desk. "You can't do this to me!"

Hiram leaned forward, giving Darien a stern look. "Fawkes, you're a loose cannon. It'd be best for everyone if you took a break, maybe pulled your personal life together before coming back to work."

As Hiram said that, Darien's last shreds of self-control went out the window. He grabbed Hiram's suit by the lapels and pulled him up so they were face to face. "I don't _have_ a personal life anymore, damnit! You saw to that!" After a moment Darien realized what he had just done. He let go of the Assistant Director's suit jacket and backed off a few steps. However, he didn't feel any remorse over his previous action. In fact, it had felt very, very good.

Hiram's eyes narrowed. He straightened his tie and said in an icy tone, "Fawkes, one more outburst like that and you're out of the Bureau for good."

Darien leaned forward again, his eyes smoldering with anger. "You know what? I think I'll save you the trouble of firing me." He slapped his badge down on the desk hard enough that the impact stung his palm. "I quit." He turned and walked out of the office before Hiram had the chance to say anything.

Halfway down the hall he saw Jones talking with a couple of other agents. He abruptly realized that there was one more thing he had to do before he left. He began to walk toward Jones, a slightly menacing drive behind the pace he was setting. Jones looked up as Darien walked toward him and smiled obnoxiously. "Hey Fawkes, you have a talk with the A.D. today?"

Darien wasted no time. As soon as Jones was within reach Darien punched him hard on the jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. "You bet I did," Darien said, a slightly malevolent grin appearing on his face. Then he turned and walked out of the building, leaving Jones sprawled on the floor.

**********

Darien walked into his apartment, turned on his CD player, and cranked the volume up to the highest possible level. Then he grabbed a can of beer out of his refrigerator and flopped down on the couch, fully ready to begin a full-scale pity party.

Just then someone began knocking loudly on the door. Darien groaned; it was probably his neighbor from the apartment next-door, trying to get him to turn off the music. He walked over to the door and threw it open, fully ready to go into a heated debate. However, the person at the door wasn't Darien's neighbor at all; in fact, it was the last person he would have expected to see at the moment, someone he hadn't seen in over a year.

"Kevin?" Darien blurted, too shocked to say anything else.

Kevin looked up at Darien, pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Darien?" He frowned and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "You look like crap."

"Well hello to you too," Darien snapped.

"Can I come in?" Kevin asked, giving Darien a pointed look. Darien stepped away from the door and Kevin walked into the room, glancing around somewhat disdainfully. Darien hadn't really bothered to clean for several weeks now, so the room was in a mild state of disarray, and it was obvious that Kevin didn't approve. He had a look on his face that Darien recognized immediately; it was the look Kevin always had on his face before he launched into one of his lectures about how Darien was screwing his life up majorly and he needed to make some serious changes.

"I heard you lost your job," Kevin said quietly.

Darien frowned. "Who told you that?"

"I have my sources."

"Well I don't appreciate your sources snooping around my personal life."

Kevin gave Darien a stern look. "Darien, I'm worried about you. You disappear from the face of the earth for over a year, no explanations, no nothing, and then when you finally come back you get yourself fired?"

"Actually, I quit."

"They were thinking about having you fired anyway."

Darien's eyes flared with anger. "What gives you the right to just storm into my life?"

"Mom told me to take care of you!" Kevin shot back. "And from the looks of things, you haven't been taking very good care of yourself." He picked up the can of beer that Darien had left unopened on the coffee table and walked over to put it in the refrigerator.

"Wait!" Darien yelped, trying to stop Kevin from opening the refrigerator door, but it was too late.

Kevin's eyes widened as he saw a good half of the refrigerator stocked with beer cans. "What the hell?" He rushed over to the trash can positioned beside the kitchen counter and opened the lid, staring with dismay at the dozens of empty cans it currently contained. He looked back up at Darien, a horrified expression on his face. "Darien, what's happened to you?"

"I..." Darien sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been having some rough times, that's all."

"You want to tell me about it?" Kevin asked, worry making its way across his features.

"No, I..." Darien trailed off for a moment. Then he said quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, I do." He and Kevin sat down on the couch, and Darien began to talk. He spoke hesitantly at first as he tried to decide which parts of the story to tell and which to leave out, but eventually he managed to tell Kevin as much of the story as he could without naming any names ore revealing any classified information.

After Darien had finished speaking, Kevin stayed silent for a long time. When he finally began to talk, it was with a much quieter and more sympathetic tone than he had used earlier. "Look, Darien, I... I might be able to get you a job at this place I've been working for, it's called the Agency. I can cut a deal with the guys in charge."

Darien shook his head. "Nah, I'll be okay, I can manage."

"The way you've been managing for the past three months?" Kevin asked, giving Darien a pointed look.

Darien's eyes flashed with anger. "Now that is just blatant manipulation!"

"Well, I'm not sure what else will get through to you at this point," Kevin said grimly. "The first thing we need to do is deal with this alcohol problem. We can talk about the job thing again afterwards."

"Whoa, hold on a second there, when did this become a 'we' thing?"

"The minute I walked through the door." Kevin placed a hand on Darien's shoulder. "Look bro, I can help you get through this, but only if you help me too. This isn't something I can do for you. You have to make the decision to do it yourself."

Darien ran a hand over his face, heaving a deep sigh. He knew his life was going down the gutter, if it wasn't there already, but he wasn't sure whether he had the energy left to try and stop it. Finally he decided he could at least try. "Okay Kev, I'll do it," he said, looking up at Kevin and giving him a quick nod.

Kevin smiled. "I'm going to make a couple of phone calls and we'll take things from there, okay?" Darien nodded, and Kevin walked over to the phone. He rapidly dialed a number and then said, "Hello, Claire? I won't be able to make it to dinner tonight after all, something's come up... No, it's more of a family matter..."

Darien didn't bother paying attention to what Kevin said after that. He pursed his lips and leaned forward, a thoughtful frown on his face. He knew it would take a long time to recover from the haze of despair he had been living in for the past three months, and he knew it would be far from easy. But maybe, just maybe, he could do it.

Just then Kevin reached down and put a hand on Darien's shoulder. "Hey there bro, how would you feel like going somewhere for dinner?"

Darien shook his head. "Nah, I..."

"Come on, it's nothing fancy. Just you, me, and my girlfriend, over at her place. It'll give us some time to catch up, and besides, I've been wanting to introduce you to Claire for a while now."

Darien thought a moment. "Okay, I guess so..." He looked up, giving Kevin a weak smile. "But could I clean up a little first?"

Kevin nodded. "Absolutely."


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

Six years later

Darien logged onto his computer and clicked the AOL icon on the desktop.  It pulled up the internet browser, signing him up on Instant Messenger as well.  Darien was just about to check his e-mail when he noticed the current headline the news ticker was displaying.  It was a headline for a story about a molester of the elderly who was currently on trial.  Normally Darien would have paid no attention to it whatsoever, but this time he felt a chill run up his spine.  The accused molester's name was listed in the headline as 'Robert Hobbes'.

It couldn't be him, Darien reasoned.  Bobby Hobbes wouldn't do something like that; it had to be someone with the same name, that was all.  Still, he found himself clicking on the headline as it scrolled across the ticker so that he could get the full story.  As the article began to display itself in his browser Darien's eyes widened.  The picture that was loading on his screen was unmistakable.  There, in a simple black suit, a slightly shocked look on his face, was Bobby Hobbes.

"Aw crap," he muttered quietly, running a hand over his face.  Just then an instant message popped up on his screen.

QS9300: Hey bro, wassup?

Ah yes, that would be Kevin.  Darien didn't understand why Kevin would want to use the name of the project he was currently working on, but he wasn't going to pry.  It was entirely possible that it was an inside joke of some kind that he hadn't been filled in on yet.  Just because he was the chief of security for said project didn't mean he was best buddies with all the techies and scientists hanging around the place.  He typed in a few words on the keyboard and then sent his reply to Kevin's question.

FuriousD: Something strange.

QS9300: Yeah?  Strange how?

FuriousD: A friend of mine's on trial.

QS9300: What'd he do, get caught putting an illegal tap on a phone line?

Darien frowned, momentarily puzzled, and then realized that Kevin had probably assumed that the person in question was an old friend from the FBI or something.

FuriousD: No, not a fibbie.

FuriousD: A thief.

QS9300: Let me guess.  From the undercover job, right?

FuriousD: You hit the nail on the head.

QS9300: Well, considering he's a career criminal, it's not that unusual.

FuriousD: But he couldn't have done this.

QS9300: What are you talking about?

FuriousD: Check out the top stories on AOL today.

QS9300: There are a lot of top stories, Darien.

FuriousD: They're trying to set him up as a molester of the elderly.

QS9300: Oh.

FuriousD: He wouldn't do that.

QS9300: How would you know?

QS9300: I mean, people's... preferences... can differ.

Darien felt a surge of anger run through him at this.  He had known Bobby, had known him quite well.  There was no way Bobby was homosexual, and definitely no way he'd ever be interested in jumping an old man on Medicare.  Darien began typing furiously, his hands flying over the keyboard.

FuriousD: Look, I know this guy, and there is no way he'd do something like this.

FuriousD: I'd be guessing he was either set up

FuriousD: or he was robbing the old guy's and something went wrong.

FuriousD: He's a thief, not a sicko!

QS9300: Okay, okay!  I was just saying.

FuriousD: I know what you were saying, and I don't appreciate it.

QS9300: What is he, a saint?

FuriousD: No, but he's not some creep either.

FuriousD: He's a good guy, he just fell in with the wrong crowd and stuff.

FuriousD: The way things are going so far, he'll probably get sent up for life.

QS9300: And he really doesn't deserve it, huh?

FuriousD: Of course not!  If things had gone differently in his life, he coulda been a cop.

QS9300: From criminal to cop.  I've always said you had a vivid imagination.

FuriousD: Come on Kev, I'm serious.

FuriousD: He's a good guy.  He just chose the wrong job.

Darien received no response for quite some time.  After a few minutes he decided Kevin had given up on the conversation and started to check his e-mail like he'd intended to in the first place, but then a message from Kevin appeared on the screen.

QS9300: So, do you think we should do something about it?

Darien stared at his computer monitor for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face.  Then he began to type again.

FuriousD: What can we do?  We don't have any proof he isn't guilty, and it's not like we could break him out of jail.

QS9300: I could talk to the Official, see if he'd make a deal for your friend like he did for you.

FuriousD: Would he do that?

FuriousD: I mean, hiring me and exonerating a known criminal aren't exactly the same thing.

QS9300: Leave the specifics up to me.  Do you really think getting him out would be the right thing?

FuriousD: Yeah.  It'd be the right thing.

QS9300: Okay then.

QS9300: Look, I gotta go, the missus says it's my turn to cook.  We'll talk about this later though, okay?

FuriousD: Okay.  ttyl, Kev.

QS9300: Talk to you later, D.

*QS9300 has signed off*

The End

Ending notes (a.k.a. my thank you list): As always, I would like to thank my wonnaful beta reader Invision, who has saved my butt any number of times.  I'd like to thank A.X. Zanier, for bribing me into getting back to work on this story (something I am very grateful for).  I'd also like to thank Drakkar, for helping me figure out how to properly deal with a section of part 4 that I was having trouble with.  And, last but definitely not least, I would like to thank Naomi, a.k.a. iwomans_sister, a.k.a. my beta listener, for listening to my rants on not just this story, but all the rest of the 'Reversed Images' series to come (yes, if the bunnies have their way this will eventually become a series), as well as several other plot bunnies to boot.  Thank you, ladies!  Words cannot express how grateful I am to y'all.

Oh, one more thing: I had Darien call Jones a twit for a reason.  I firmly believe that Jones is a twit.  But, when calling someone a twit, there's something you have to know -- a twit is a pregnant goldfish.  Jones is a twit.  Therefore, he is a pregnant goldfish.  I'll never be able to think of him the same way again...  ;) 

liz_Z 


End file.
